


a return to the dust

by Sawster



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Haunting, Not Canon Compliant, Reincarnation, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 08:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sawster/pseuds/Sawster
Summary: A bundling of ficlets and drabbles that are based on the wayward idea that Vanus Galerion's soul is reincarnated somehow in the future. Kinda like the Nerevarine but not as original or interesting.





	a return to the dust

**Author's Note:**

> You know how reincarnations are haunted by the memories and sensations of their past lives? Yeah, I tried to do the reverse of that but I was vague and shitty about it.

Vanus woke up with pipe smoke on his fingers. 

He had been staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, tracing the wooden knots with his eyes. It had been years since he had done any manual labor. Something cracked at his core to think about the stench of muddy straw between his toes and the whispers of his father as greasy tiny fingers clutched at the clumsily bound pages. 

There was no need to look down at his hands. The last hundred or so years had given him fingers as delicate as spider silk, things made for weaving creatia and sunlight. But he had been given the gift of a craftsman's hands overnight. Rough palms with grit stuck in dark patches of skin between scabbed knuckles. Something his own father once had. The very thought caused Vanus, now Trechtus if but for a moment, to dig his nails into the sheets, sulling them with his sweat and smoke. 

But there would be no marks on his covers. Like novice’s first spell, the illusion would shatter the moment he stirred from his bed. Vanus still lingered though, inhaling the sweet smoke like it was the breath of a lover. It was the little secret he even kept from himself. Anyone could admit that they enjoyed the scent and beauty of a flower but the old mer desired nothing more than to lie in the dusty earth with the thick and heady smell of the wisp of his nightly friend. A place where smokey kisses that never were filled his lungs. 

His bones ached and groaned against the rocks but his ghostly companion only grumbled. No… it was a laugh that rumbled like thunder on the horizon. Warmth bloomed in his chest at the sound as his heart foolishly called out.

Mannimarco?

The response was silence… but only for a moment. A bitterness settled on his tongue -- a taste that reminded Vanus too much of stale papers and disappointment. It was as if the mirage was mirroring him and his thoughts at Ceporah Tower. A reminder of the choices his once lover had made. The comforting dust quickly turned into something echoed the anger and sorrow from his youth. Distant thunder grew louder in his ears as a storm swelled over him. He felt like he was being chided like a child and Vanus couldn’t gather the ego to rebut. 

Like the magus opus of a master composer, the storm rolled into a crescendo of resentment and spite. The air of a questions unanswered pelted him like icy rain. At that point, all thoughts were irrational and it felt like a punishment for crimes he had never committed. Vanus… no… Trechtus let a wave of guilt crash into him. He had betrayed a friend that never existed. A ghost of a thought. Magic raw and uneasy yet still profound. Love and hatred swirling together as one.

_Trechtus sobbed._

The noise halted in his throat at the sudden sight of the knotted wood above him. It took a few moments but he blinked up, realizing that he must have fallen asleep and dreamt for a bit. His skinny frame sighed in relief as he sat up on his mattress, noticing the lack of dirt under his fingernails. Of course, there wasn’t any there; Vanus was a clean man who had taken a bath just the night before. In fact, just by glancing at the window, he could already tell that he needed to prepare for his lectures that morning. 

Standing, he walked over to the mirror in the corner, finding comfort in his own blue eyes reflecting back at him. There was no smoke, only tiny bits of dust floating in the streams of light from the guildhouse windows. Only his aged but bright face smiled back at him as he turned to get ready. 

He ignored the flash of honey eyes in the mirror that only appeared in the edge of his sight.


End file.
